Memoirs Of A Heroin Addict
by Don'tReadMyStories
Summary: Jackson is thirty-two years old and has been living on the streets since he was twenty-four. The reason for this was because he became addicted to heroin. Follow Jackson on a journey of some memorable happenings in his life.


I frequently glanced over my shoulder, my eyes searching nervously. The night sky covered me. I tried not to walk too fast so I wouldn't look suspicious. My hands were in the pockets of my jeans. I fingered the small bags that were inside.

My name is Cody Jackson. I'm thirty-two years old. I have no money, no car, no job, no friends, and no home. But I think it would be easier to tell you the things that I do have.

I have the clothes on my back, which are covered with holes and dirt. I have an ex-wife named Melissa and a kid of thirteen years named Haydn, whom Melissa won't let me see. I also have a bundle of heroin in my pockets, which I've just paid seventy-two dollars for.

I took my first shot of heroin when I was twenty-one. It soon became an addiction after that. I would think about it all day everyday. I lost my job because of it. I couldn't support my family because I'd blow any money that we did get to feed my addiction. We would've lost the house if it wouldn't have been for Melissa's parents chipping in at the last minute. Melissa put up with me for three years before kicking me out and taking me to court to get custody of Haydn. I gradually built a tolerance to heroin-now having to have nine bags just to last me for one day.

I turned a corner and looked around me, paranoid. I went deeper into the alley, then came to a stop. I leaned up against the brick wall of someone's house and started to shakily prepare the heroin.

After a few minutes, I had a wire that I'd found on the ground one day tightly wrapped around my arm. When I'd been with Melissa, I'd used a belt. But I'd sold everything in order to afford the heroin. So now I just have to improvise.

I examined my arm, then stuck the needle into a vein after clenching a fist. I pulled the piston back some, allowing blood to enter the syringe. Then I pushed it all the way down. After that, I pulled the needle out and untied the wire. I slowly slid my back down the wall and waited shortly for the effects of the heroin to take over.

"Yo, D-Blok, Wake up, man."

I opened my eyes, alerted when someone kicked my foot.

"What the f*** you doin' sleepin' at eleven?" A man stood there, smoking a cigarette.

I yawned, then took his hand when he offered it, rising to my feet. "What up, Benz?"

"Nothin', man. You got some coke on you?"

"Yeah." I looked around before pulling a bag from my back pocket and handing it to him.

"What's up, man? Why you so jumpy?"

"Almost got picked up last night."

He observed me. "Need a cigarette?"

"Yeah." I took one, then let him light it for me. I took a puff, then pulled it out of my mouth with my pointer finger and thumb. "Yo, you got any money on you, man?"

"Nah. Plus, you still owe me a hundred and thirty dollars. Oh, and, speakin' of owing someone, Bullet's lookin' for you-said you behind on a lot."

I let the smoke escape my lips as I sighed, then spoke under my breath. "S***."

"Hey, man, I gotta go. Take it easy. Lay low."

"Alright, man. See ya around." I was left alone to smoke my cigarette.

I stuck sixty dollars in my pocket as a young teenager walked away with a gram of cocaine in his jacket. I calmed down a bit, for I hadn't had any sales all day. I hoped that I could sell another four or five grams so I'd have enough money to buy my dope and pay off what I owe Bullet.

I stepped out of the elevator and turned a few corners. I came to a white door and knocked.

After a short moment, someone answered the door, then grabbed my shirt collar and yanked me inside. He shoved me into the next room.

This condo was expensive and fancy. The couple that lived here was very successful in the drug business.

A large, dark-skinned man was sitting in a chair. His voice was deep. "You got the money?"

"Yeah." I pulled two hundred and sixteen dollars out of my pocket, only to have it snatched out of my hand by one of the gang members that watched me intently.

We all stood in an awkward silence.

Bullet stared at me, so I looked down at the floor. "Is it all there?"

"Yup," the man who had taken the money from me said after counting it.

"Alright. Get outta here."

I turned around and exited. Once I was outside of the room, I visibly exhaled, calming myself down.

I opened my eyes a small bit and noticed someone taking a seat next to me. The man picked up my syringe and started preparing his heroin. I found it hard to keep my eyes open, so I didn't.

I opened my eyes to find myself leaning against a dumpster. I looked up and noticed that it was still dark. Rain was pouring from the sky. I used the wall as support as I pushed myself up. There was a man next to me who had puked all over himself. I bent over and checked his pockets, finding three dollars and some change.

I put the money into my pocket, then wrapped my arms across my chest to get warm. I wore a cheap black beanie and some sneakers that were old and broken. My dirty jeans had holes in them. My jacket was raggedy and barely kept me from the cold. I am so much skinnier than I had been a couple years ago. My hair is longer, too.

I started toward the end of the alley, then turned and walked along the sidewalk. There weren't many people, and even less cars. The stores and shops I passed were closed. I put my hands into my pockets and looked down at my feet to keep the rain out of my eyes.

It wasn't until I got to the Den did I remember that the other guy that was passed out next to me had used and taken my syringe. Maybe I could find someone around here that could let me use theirs.

The Den is an old building. I first learned about it from a prostitute. Her name is Jenna. She was also on H. Jenna is the first person I met on the streets. She was only sixteen or seventeen at the time while I was twenty-four.

I saw a couple guys that were passed out, so I decided to take one of their needles. I chose one, then started preparing my heroin.

I was nodding out as I sat on the stairs with my head on my knees. I had my hat in my jacket pocket.

Jenna gripped my hair, lifting my head. "You wanna do me, D?"

I groaned something about not having any money before nodding out again.

I woke up to find Jenna leaning against me, passed out. I gently pushed her away and stood up. I immediately noticed that my shoes were missing. I looked around to see if anyone had them.

I couldn't find them, so I decided to take someone else's. The closest size I could find was too big, but that's okay because it means that I could fit these for a while.

"D-Blok, you got my money, man?"

I slowed down so Benz could catch up with me. "No. Not yet."

"I gotta have it soon, buddy."

"I know."

"So what have you been up to?"

"Same as always."

Benz wiped his nose. "You got any coke on you, man?"

"Nah."

He sniffed, then spat on the sidewalk. "Well, tell me when you get something."

"I will."

I stepped inside the Laundromat and looked around. I'd been watching this one guy for a couple minutes. He had finally walked away.

I opened the dryer that his clothes were in and grabbed everything that was inside. I hurried out of the Laundromat with my new clothes.

It was dark. I'd finally gathered enough money to get my dope. I was leaning against a brick wall in an alley, preparing the heroin.

That's when I noticed Benz storming toward me. I started to walk backwards, dropping the syringe.

Benz grabbed my shirt in his fist, shoving me against the wall. "Where's my money?"

"I don't have it yet."

"I need it!" He kneed my lower stomach, then my head when I doubled over in pain. He shoved me onto the ground, kicking me.

I couldn't get away. My body lifted off of the ground with every blow. I was trapped against the wall as he beat me.

After a couple minutes, Benz checked my pockets, taking the forty-six dollars and change that I'd gotten from stealing purses at the park. Before I blacked out, I saw him grab all of my heroin and the needle and toss it into the dumpster.

I pulled myself up so I sat on the edge of the dumpster. I held the lid open with one hand, then used the other one to rummage around in the garbage. After a couple minutes of no luck, I decided to just jump in.

I searched for what felt like thirty minutes, but didn't find the heroin that Benz had thrown away. I only was successful in getting the needle. I hopped out, smelling terrible, but I didn't care.

I leaned my back against the wall and slid down it, my hands roughly squeezing my hair.

I need my heroin, and I need it fast. The worst of the withdrawal has yet to come. I was walking down the street of a familiar neighborhood. I could feel puke coming up my throat. My left eye was swollen closed.

I spotted the house that I was looking for, then crossed the yard, looking around me before opening the gate and going into the backyard. There was a small window on the side of the house that was hidden with grass that hadn't been cut in a month. I used the back of my heal to kick in the glass, breaking the window. I was small enough to slip inside. I dropped into the basement.

I looked around, then went up the stairs. I opened the door to see that the coast was clear. I found myself to be in a kitchen. I turned a corner and went up some stairs quietly. I opened the first door on the left to find myself in a bedroom that was once shared by Melissa and I.

I went to one of the pictures on the wall all took it off of its nail. A small safe had been inserted into the wall here.

I thought for a moment, whispering to myself. "What's the combination? C'mon, Jackson. Think." After a moment, I said, "Haydn's birthday. Um…eight…twenty-seven…seven." The safe didn't open. "No. He's…twelve. Two thousand twenty-one minus twelve is…nine. Eight…twenty-seven…nine." Again, the safe didn't budge. "Wait. He was born in October. Right before Halloween. Duh. Ten…twenty-seven…nine." The safe opened. "Yes!"

"Jackson?"

I whipped around to see a beautiful woman standing there.

"What are you doing here?"

"I need to borrow some money."

"There isn't any in there."

I looked to see that she was right. The safe was empty.

"Where is it?" I asked.

"Don't you remember?"

I shook his head.

"You used all of that money on your drugs."

"I did?"

"Yeah. So now your son has no money to go to college with."

"Melissa, I really need some money. Can you, please, help me?"

"No," she said, angry that I was serious.

"Please, Melissa." I stepped toward her, putting my hand on her arm and sliding it down to touch her hand.

She flinched, disgusted, but forced herself not to pull away. She didn't want to hurt my feelings.

"Melissa, I'm in a lot of trouble, and I owe a lot of people. If I don't get this money, they will kill me. Okay? So, please. Give me some money. Please. I'm not gonna buy anything with it," I lied. "I'm just gonna pay those people back."

Melissa thought for a moment before giving in. "Okay. How much do you need?" She led me down the stairs and into the kitchen, where her purse was on the counter.

"Like a hundred and fifty-eight." That would be enough to buy today's heroin and pay off what I owe Benz.

Melissa stared at me.

"Okay. A hundred?"

She didn't change expressions. "How about twenty?"

I sighed and looked up, thinking. It's better than nothing. I'm getting cocaine soon anyway from my supplier so I can pay Benz back in cocaine like I have been doing. With twenty dollars, I would have enough dope for one shot. Then I could find money somewhere else for my next two today.

"Okay," I said.

She started digging through her purse. I could see a lot of bills in there. She probably just got money out of the bank recently.

I bit my lip, thinking quickly. I suddenly grabbed her purse, then ran for the front door.

"Jackson!" Melissa yelled.

I opened the door, but ran into someone.

"Jackson?" It was Nathan. "Man, you look awful."

I tried to get away, but he wouldn't let me go as he observed me. Melissa furiously grabbed her purse from my hand. Now seeing what I'd been trying to do, Nathan got a better grip on me so I couldn't get away. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

We waited for the cops to arrive. I sat on the couch. Melissa and Nathan stood over me as if they were my parents scolding me. There wouldn't let me leave. Melissa's arms were crossed. I was looking at my lap.

Nathan broke the long silence. "So how have you been?"

I just shrugged.

"What were you thinking by coming here?" Melissa said rudely.

"I need some money."

"So you were gonna steal it?"

"I asked."

"Yeah. After you opened the safe upstairs."

"There wasn't anything in there."

"You didn't know that then."

"Melissa, I'm sorry. I have to have this money. I'm in a lot of trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Nathan asked.

"I gotta get outta town for a while."

"You're lying," Melissa accused.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Earlier, you told me that you needed it to pay people back. You're changing your story. If you would've gotten that money, you would've bought more heroin."

"Melissa, please." My eyes had tears in them as I looked up at her.

"No," she said. "I'm not giving you any money. You ruined your chance of that."

I sniffled. "Nathan, please. Just twenty dollars. Please."

"No." He was even more serious than Melissa.

I broke down then. I knew that neither of them would give in. "Please. Please. Please," I begged. "Just give me enough money for one more shot and I promise I'll quit. That will be the last one. Please."

"No."

Suddenly, I stood up and ran, both of them following behind me. I hurried into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me. I then went to the toilet and threw up.

When I was finished, I decided that I couldn't go back out there and wait for the police to take me. I looked around and saw a small window. A couple years ago, I wouldn't have been able to fit through it. But, now, I just might.

I stepped onto the toilet, then pushed the window open. After that, I jumped up a bit and pulled myself through, falling on the ground head-first. I stood and ran across the backyard, hopping a fence.

I was laying on the ground, shaking. Vomit covered my shirt and chin.

Another addict passed by me, and I grabbed their ankle.

"Give me a shot."

"I need two dollars." She seemed pretty desperate, too.

"I don't have any money. Please. Give me a shot."

"Not without the money."

"Please!" I yelled with my teeth clenched. "Give me a shot! Please!"

The woman checked my pockets. I tried to pushed her away, but was too weak. Seeing that I had no money she continued down the alley.

"B****!" I screamed after her. "You b****!"

She turned, but didn't stop walking, flicking me off with both hands.

This wasn't supposed to be my life. I wasn't supposed to hang out with the people that Melissa warned me about. I wasn't supposed to go to that party so long ago. I wasn't supposed to take that offered shot.

I wasn't supposed to get addicted.

My main thought wasn't supposed to be '_How am I going to get my next shot?_'. I shouldn't have had to watch my back everywhere I go. I shouldn't have had to run from the cops. I was never supposed to rob and injure people. I shouldn't have been in jail. I shouldn't have stopped caring about Melissa, my son, my friends, or my hygiene. I wasn't supposed to hurt them.

I wasn't supposed to die in this dark, lonely alley because of these fatal withdrawal symptoms.

But I did all those things.


End file.
